


I Know You

by onoheiwa



Series: A Kiss is Worth a Thousand Words [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Episode: s03e07 Fresh Blood, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onoheiwa/pseuds/onoheiwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are holed up in the motel room, windows and doors barred as they try to decide what to do about Gordon being in town and after Sam. The reckless older brother rears his head and Sam is finally fed up with the tough guy act, calling Dean out for putting up a front when he knows his brother is actually terrified. The end of his year until Hell is shrinking and Sam is tired of all the pretending. For once, he just wants to be honest and say what he's really thinking and, for once, he wants Dean to do the same. Even if it means everything has to change. </p><p> </p><p>"You're scared because your year is running out and you're still going to Hell and you're freaked." </p><p>"And how do you know that?" </p><p>"Because I know you!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know You

**Author's Note:**

> So... as I was writing I ended up wanting to make this one a little steamier than the others. I really had intended to only have it reach a "Mature" level but the story kind of drug me along and it got a bit more explicit than I thought it would. So here we go, my first jump away from a "Teen" rating and straight into explicit. I've never written this stuff before, but I've read so much of it that I hope I've at least learned something enough to make it good. Anyway, I really like this one (and not just because it's got sexy stuff), so I hope you do too.

Sam turned away from the window when he heard Dean's boot smashing into their phones. He felt a vague sense of annoyance that they would have to buy new ones and re-input all of their contacts, but other than that he was indifferent. He didn't really understand normal people's obsession with their phones. The only reason he and Dean kept any was because of the convenience they provided in reaching people but Sam had never felt the need to get overly attached to the devices. 

 

As Sam walked past him, Dean threw a glance his way and picked up the broken pieces of the phones. "Sam, stay here." 

 

Sam felt his stomach start to churn at the words. He knew where this was going but he had to ask anyway. "What? Where you goin' now?" 

 

Dean picked up one of the guns and a box of ammo. "I'm goin' after Gordon." 

 

Sam felt like sighing, having known that this was what his brother was getting at but still having wished otherwise. He couldn't help but play along like he always did, though, acting confused that Dean would want to do anything without his brother's help. "What?" 

 

Dean leaned against one of the dressers that they hadn't already shoved against a door or window. "Yeah, you heard me." 

 

 _Yeah, I heard you and got it the first time. Doesn't change the ridiculousness of it all. Doesn't change that I wish I could still be as innocently shocked as I act every time this happens._  But saying any of that to Dean was pointless. The only thing he could do was stick with his brother no matter what.

  


"Not alone you're not." Sam was absolutely adamant about it this time. On another occasion he might have let Dean get away with going off alone or at least pretended he was gonna go along with it. But not this time. Gordon was after him, not Dean, and he was not going to let Dean go out there with the mindset that it wouldn't matter if he died because he was dying soon anyway. If Dean really was going to get drug off to Hell in a few months Sam couldn't do anything about it, but he was not giving Dean up any earlier than that just because he was being rash and stupid. Not a chance. Unfortunately, Dean was just as stubborn. 

 

"Sam, I don't need you to sign me a permission slip, okay? He's after you, not me. He's turbo-charged." Dean was still leaning against the counter, taking the gun apart piece by piece, checking to make sure it was in good order, before clicking everything back into place and loading the gun. "I want you to stay outta harm's way. I'll take care of it." 

 

And there it was, the protective big brother who had to do everything on his own. As if Sam was still a little kid who needed protecting. How many times had he saved Dean's ass? When was Dean going to see Sam as an equal? "Well Dean, you're not goin' by yourself, you're gonna get yourself killed." 

 

"Well. Just another day at the office. It's a massively dangerous day at the office..." 

 

It figured that he would try and make a joke out of it. Whenever Sam tried to say anything meaningful Dean would throw it back at him with a heavy dose of sarcasm and a clever quip. Sam was sick of it, but there was no way to get Dean to quit being who he was, to stop trying to make light of everything he didn't want to deal with.

  


"So what, you're the guy with nothin' to lose now, huh?" He knew it would only cause a fight but he couldn't stop his voice from being laced with scorn, vexed and angry with Dean for acting so blasé pouring out of him. It never ceased to drive him crazy that Dean was still not talking about how he really felt and all the frustration over it was bubbling out in the form of bitter words. "Oh wait, lemme guess, because, uh, it's because you're already dead, right?" 

 

Dean just gave him a look. "If the shoe fits." 

 

Sam could no longer keep his rage under control, couldn't stay silent about Dean's actions anymore, couldn't stand by and watch Dean get himself killed because of recklessness. "You know what man? I'm sick and tired of your old stupid kamikaze trick!" 

 

Dean visibly backpedaled, a grin working its way on to his face. "Whoa whoa whoa, kamikaze? I'm more like a ninja." 

 

"That's not funny." 

 

"It's a little funny." 

 

"No, It's not." Sam could feel his composure straining to stay in check under the weight of so much anger with his brother for always hiding, always putting up a brave front. For once he just wanted Dean to be honest with him, to admit that he was feeling something, anything. Anything other than the arrogant indifference he displayed. 

 

Dean had stood upright at Sam's kamikaze comment, but turned away, hiding his face. "What do you want me to do Sam, huh? Sittin' around all day writing sad poems about how I'm gonna die?" He walked behind Sam and picked up a pad of paper. "You know what, I got one. Let's see, what rhymes with 'Shut up, Sam'?" 

 

"Dude." Sam was furious but it came from a deep well of anguish that tempered him, kept him from shouting.  _Still making jokes_. He tore the paper from his brother's hands and looked him straight in the eye, voice calm with a thread of command in the tone. "Drop the attitude, Dean. Quit turning everything into a punch line. And you know something else? Stop trying to act like you're not afraid." Sam almost regretted the words, but he was so, so tired of watching Dean play the tough guy act. So tired of dealing with the sarcasm and the jokes and recklessness. Tired of going along with his brother while he pretended to be fine. 

 

"I'm not." Dean's reply was short, instantaneous. Like he was prepared for comments like that and prepared to deny them. 

 

"You're lying," Sam said back just as quickly, already knowing how his brother was going to try and keep up a brave front. Sam knew better, though. "And you may as well drop it cause I can see right through you." 

 

Dean's face had lost it's smirk, a hint of anger flaring in his eyes, warning Sam to drop it. "You got no idea what you're talking about." He punctuated the statement with a different kind of smirk, one that said:  _Stop trying to act like a big kid Sammy, big brother Dean knows better than you_. He walked back behind Sam again, right past his shoulder and toward the dresser with the gun resting on top. 

 

"Yeah, I do. You're scared, Dean." Sam turned to look at his brother, absolute certainty giving his voice an air of authority. "You're scared because your year is running out and you're still goin' to Hell and you're freaked." 

 

Dean looked up, anger finally actually coloring his voice and not just his eyes. "And how do you know that?" he asked imperiously. 

 

"Because I know you!" Sam shouted. 

 

"Really?" Dean's face held the tell-tale expression of an adult placating an ignorant child. 

 

Sam knew better than to let it rile him, though. He knew Dean. He knew him and he knew he was right about what had Dean acting this way. It wasn't the carefreeness of someone who no longer had anything to lose and was making the best of things. It wasn't the self-sacrificial attitude of someone who knows they're dying so there's no reason not to take the dangerous jobs. It was fear. He'd been around his brother for so long, saw him in any and every situation imaginable, saw how he reacted to every little thing and cataloged it. Sometimes he wondered if his attention to Dean was a bit excessive - how many brothers could say that the knew the exact facial expressions their siblings would make to any comment, any situation? How many people knew anyone that well? But Sam would never trade his relationship with Dean for anything, never wanted to lose that knowledge of his brother for any reason. "Yeah, because I've been following you around my entire life!" 

 

Sam waited to see if Dean would respond, but his brother stayed silent. Sam decided that was permission to continue, even though he knew it was more shock on Dean's part that Sam would say something that so obviously displayed his affection. Winchesters never said out loud how they felt about each other. Rough pats on the back, a gruff shove while joking around. For pity's sake, their endearments for each other were swear words - the Winchester boys didn't talk about feelings and they rarely even made subtle comments about how important the other was, not outside of life-or-death situations. And even though this wasn't strictly one, Sam couldn't stay silent. He was sick of acting like Dean wasn't important to him, sick of putting on the Winchester "manly" persona that didn't allow him to show how much he cared about his family, about Dean. Dean was his whole  _life,_ always had been. And for once, he was going to say it, out loud, and right to Dean's face so that there could be no doubt in his brother's mind about how much Dean's impending exile to Hell was tearing Sam up inside. "I mean, I've been looking up to you since I was four, Dean. Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother. So yeah, I know you. Better than anyone else in the entire world." 

 

Sam could feel his eyes starting to sting, tried to hold back the tears so his voice wouldn't choke up. Dean had looked away while Sam talked and was avoiding eye contact. Sam hated seeing his brother looking so cagey, but he couldn't stay silent anymore. "And this?" he continued. "This is  _exactly_ how you act when you're terrified." 

 

Dean blinked rapidly, looking down and away. He still stayed silent, refusing to talk, to admit to anything. 

 

"And, I mean I can't blame you. It's just - " Sam stopped and shook his head. He didn't know how much more he should say. If he let out the words that he wanted to say, there would be no going back. And as well as he knew Dean, this was one thing that he had no experience with. He had no idea how Dean would react to the words that Sam had been hoarding for months, maybe years. It had been a slow-in-coming realization since he had left Stanford and gotten back on the road with Dean. It was something he had never planned to share, but with time running out he wasn't sure if he could keep it to himself anymore. He wanted Dean to know, even if it screwed things up, even if Dean wouldn't want to be around him anymore. Even if things got awkward, Sam wanted Dean to know just how important he was. But he wasn't sure if he should say. 

 

"What?" Dean was looking at him with genuine curiosity in his eyes, though his face was blank. 

 

His tingling eyes could no longer hold back the tears and Sam felt his eyes well up. "It's just, I wish you would drop the show and be my brother again. Cause - "  And Sam stopped himself again, cutting off the flow of words, feeling like there was a war going on inside his head. Part of him was urging him to just say the words, to be totally honest for once in his life. But the Winchester part of him, the part raised by John that was trained to never show weakness, not even with his family, was screaming at him to keep silent and to lean back on the same thing they always did. That they were family and they needed to look out for each other, to be there for each other and support one another. To just let the comment about being his brother again stand alone as it was. It was the truth, he could leave it at that and Dean would believe him, but that was only part of the story. There was so much more to it and Sam finally felt like he'd had enough of keeping secrets. If it messed everything up, so be it, but at least he would know that he had been honest. "Cause you're everything to me. Cause your my brother and my friend and more important to me than anything in the world and I can't lose you." 

 

Dean looked taken aback. "Sam, I'm right here. The year's not over yet." 

 

"No, Dean. I'm not talking about you dying, I'm talking about the way you're acting. You're not yourself right now, you're putting on the show, acting like you think Dean is supposed to act. All the swagger and the carefree drinking and sex and the cocky attitude. But that's not what you're really like anymore and that's not how you really feel right now. And if you're really going to be gone soon then I want  _you_ , here and acting like yourself. I don't want to watch you flirting and hooking up with every female in sight, I don't want to watch you run into every hunt like it's your last and you're ready to die, I don't want to go to sleep at night feeling like you're miles away when your bed is two feet from mine." The tears had finally flooded over and were streaming down Sam's face.

 

Dean was standing with his hand partially outstretched, like he wanted to touch Sam and comfort him, but he was frozen in shock.

 

Sam swiped a hand angrily across his face, sweeping away the wet tracks. "Dean, I'm going to lose you and I don't even have the comfort of you being here and acting like yourself now. You're going to die and you're going to leave me here all alone and how am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to live without you around? And how am I supposed to deal with it when you act like you don't even care and that it's perfectly okay if you cut out early, huh?" It wasn't the whole truth, he realized, but it was close enough to get Dean to really think about what he was doing without possibly crossing a line that he couldn't cross back over. It would have to be good enough. 

 

Dean was stock still, but there was sadness creeping across his eyes and his hand was still outstretched. "Sam, I -" It was like speaking had broken the spell and Dean could move again. He dropped his hand while his face crumpled. "...I'm sorry. Shit. I screwed this all up." 

 

Sam laughed wanly, wiping more tears away. "Just wanted to make me feel like everything was normal, right? So we wouldn't spend the whole year miserable?" 

 

Dean looked at him with surprise. 

 

"I told you. I know you, Dean," he said simply. 

 

The shock on his brother's face slipped away suddenly, turning into determination. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to hurt you like that," he said firmly. 

 

Sam bit back a sigh. "I know you didn't." 

 

The brothers looked at each other and shared a sad smile before falling into awkward silence. Dean was the first to break it, hesitant and soft but his expression was fiercely curious. "Sam, all that stuff you said. About me being important to you and you not liking the way I've been acting... What did you really mean?" 

 

Sam blinked in surprise. He knew that Dean knew him just as well as Sam knew his older brother, but normally Dean wouldn't call make him spill everything unless it had to do with a case. Sam had figured that if he wanted to tell his brother everything he would have to bring it up on his own, but Dean had realized there was more to it that what Sam had said and was actually asking to be told.

  


It was strange, actually, because normally Dean hated talking about anything serious and would barrel through whatever Sam said, addressing that and only that, ignoring any issues not brought up specifically. For Dean to want to dig deeper was odd and Sam couldn't help the flare of hope in his chest. If Dean realized there was more and was pressing it, maybe... 

 

Sam knew if he didn't say anything now he would lose his nerve and might never get the chance again. If he wanted Dean to know how felt, fully and completely, it was time to say so. He took a deep breath and locked eyes with his brother. "I love you, Dean. As family, as my brother, yeah, but as more than that, too. I'm in love with you. And it's probably not what you want to hear and you probably think it's disgusting and horrible and I'm prepared for that. But I wanted you to know. Just-  ...you had to know." 

 

Sam was practically holding his breath, waiting for Dean to react. At first there was nothing. Just a blank stare. And then Dean's expression started to change. He crept forward, taking a step toward Sam, then another, his posture cautious and face restrained. Sam was startled to see tears filling up his brother's eyes. 

 

"...Sam?" 

 

Sam looked down at Dean where he had stopped just in front of him, the flare of hope rising and making his hands shake. "Yeah, Dean?" 

 

"Do you- " Dean stopped and his face morphed into a glare so fierce as to be intimidating. "You don't get to take this back. If you really mean it, if it's not a joke - You don't get to change your mind." 

 

Sam's heart soared, knowing what those words meant. If Dean were angry, if he were repulsed, he would've walked away, ran really. Or punched Sam in the face. Or started screaming. No, Dean was getting closer and making Sam swear that he meant what he said, which meant Dean _wanted_ the words to be true. Sam could hardly breathe with the anticipation, and stayed perfectly still as Dean advanced, as if moving would break the moment. "Dean. I love you.," he repeated. 

 

The tension snapped and Dean surged forward, lips meeting Sam's almost violently, hand's fisting in his shirt to drag him down. Sam's hands reached up, grabbing hold of Dean's face and framing it with his long fingers. Their mouths moved frantically over each other's, lips sliding wetly and faces pulling back only to dive back in at a different angle. Sam's eyes were screwed shut, focusing on sensation alone - the feel of Dean's stubble scratching his palms, the tips of his fingers pressing into his brother's hair, the softness of his lips. 

 

He turned his head, changing the angle again, but pressed forward, keeping their mouth's locked and stroked his tongue across Dean's bottom lip. The older man groaned and opened his mouth, welcoming his brother in. Sam thrust into his brother's mouth, searching for his tongue and pressing into it, writhing around it when he found it. The contact brought a rush of heat and Sam groaned, rolling his hips to grind against Dean's. The friction had Dean gasping, mouth opening wider and one of his fists detached itself from Sam's shirt. Sam felt a flat hand slid down his chest and stomach past the hem of his shirt where it palmed his cock through his jeans where it was already beginning to swell with need. 

 

He felt a gasp of his own sneak past his lips, before he growled, bringing his hand's down to Dean's hips and pushing him backward, slamming him against the nearest wall and grinding their hips together. The force of it broke their mouths apart and Dean's other hand slid up to grip the back of Sam's neck, his other palm still sliding across the front of his brother's jeans. 

 

"Sam." His voice was low, gravelly, and a little breathless. The sound of it made heat pool in Sam's gut and he pulled at his brother's hip, pressing their groins together tightly while diving back in to devour Dean's mouth. Dean's hand slid out of the way and reached around Sam's body, sliding underneath the denim of his pants and grabbing the flesh of his ass, pulling their bodies together more forcefully. 

 

Sam lost all sense of time, only knowing the hot and wet sensation of Dean's lips and tongue, the sweet and fiery friction of Dean's hard cock sliding against his own through their jeans, Dean's hands grabbing and holding onto bare skin. They kissed and writhed against each other, heat and desire coursing through their veins. It could have been minutes or hours before Dean tore their mouths apart and spoke again. 

 

"God, Sammy. I want to touch you so badly."

 

Sam groaned, and buried his face in Dean's neck, biting at the sensitive flesh under his jaw. "Do it." 

 

Dean groaned in return and brought his hand back around to their fronts, worming between their bodies where they were flush together from thigh to chest. Sam shivered as the calloused fingers fluttered under his shirt and undid the button and zipper of his pants. He jerked at the first touch of Dean's hand on his cock, sliding along his pelvis and gripping lightly.

 

"Dean. Dean." Sam knew he probably sounded breathless and needy, but he couldn't bring himself to care. This was  _Dean_. Touching him. And it wasn't a dream. His cock throbbed within the heat of his brother's hand, so hard it was beginning to ache. Dean stroked him a couple of times and then nudged at the side of Sam's head with his nose. Sam got the picture and turned, bringing their lips together again while Dean's other hand worked at his own jeans. 

 

When Dean's hand wrapped around and fisted both of their cocks together, Sam hissed, hand's gripping Dean's rib cage and pressing him back into the wall, hips grinding together forcefully. Pre-come was leaking from both of them steadily, slicking Dean's hand as it slid up and down their shafts. It was hot and slick and messy and perfect. Sam broke away from Dean's lips and bent his head, nipping and kissing his brother's neck, marking the skin and claiming it as his own. Dean's head slammed back into the wall and his back arched, a low moan vibrating through his chest. 

 

"Sam." 

 

Sam just growled in response, sucking on his brother's neck below his ear and Dean let out a sound like a whimper that he would probably deny ever having made. His hands picked up speed, sliding up and down their cocks faster and tighter. Sam felt the heat pooling in his belly get hotter, tendrils of pleasure coursing through his body. He knew Dean was close too and snaked a hand up through Dean's shirt, fingers brushing over hard muscle and nails scraping over a nipple. 

 

Dean's whole body spasmed and arched, his head thrown back as a cry tore past his lips and his hands tightened around their cocks as white fluid spilled over his hand. 

 

The feeling of Dean's body pressed against his own and his brother's cum coating his cock pushed Sam over the edge. His orgasm slammed into him like a white light, pulse after pulse of blood roaring in his ears while his body shook with pleasure, his knees weak. His lungs heaved as he came down from the high, his forehead pressed against Dean's. 

 

Dean was breathing heavily too, one hand braced against Sam's chest, the other held awkwardly over their softening cocks, not wanting to continue touching their sensitive flesh. Sam reached down and grabbed his hand, pulling it up to his mouth and licking the mess off. Dean watched him with blown pupils, a groan escaping. 

 

"Shit, Sam, you're tryin to kill me." 

 

Sam just grinned and finished before speaking. He knew this was when things could get awkward really fast if he said the wrong thing. If Dean had any suspicions that Sam was going to freak out or change his mind, he'd run before listening and they'd be even worse off than before. He pulled Dean's now clean hand up to his cheek, covering it with his long fingers. He looked down at Dean who was watching him steadily but with a hint of wariness in his eyes. "This isn't a one time thing for me, Dean. I want this. I want  _you_. I'm not going anywhere." 

 

He watched as a smile spread across Dean's face, warmth growing in his chest when it appeared Dean wasn't going to run away. His brother's soft smile morphed to a mischievous grin. "Well good. Where else would I find a gigantor to carry all our stuff around? Bitch." 

 

Sam's face split into a grin at the old joke. He was still determined to keep Dean out of Hell. They had no plan on how to do that, and they were likely to have issues until then. This change in their relationship wasn't going to stop the arguing and Sam had no misconceptions that Dean would suddenly open up and talk about his feelings. They still had Gordon to take care of too. But they had each other and though the nature of their relationship would be different, they were still Sam and Dean. The basics were still going to be the same and Sam found comfort in that, in the familiarity of it right when things had started to feel way too different. But Dean was still Dean, as much of a smart ass as ever. And Sam knew the ritual, knew his role in this game and was happy that it wasn't going anywhere. "Whatever, Jerk." 

 

 


End file.
